Roses
by LoveLoveLovix
Summary: Bella has a strange ability to see the dead. After her stepfather Phil kicks her out of the house, threatening to expose her should she return,she moves in with her father. However, she finds more than safety in Forks as a family curse is revealed.
1. Chapter 1

"Bella?"

I squeezed my eyes tighter. "Get away. Get away from me!"

"Bella! Bella?"

_I'm not going to answer_, I told myself. _No. Let them deal with all of it themselves_.

But when they started shaking me, I had to open my eyes, only to find that it was only my mom, Renee. "Bella! Isabella!"

I sighed. "What is it, Mom?"

She sniffled, and I saw that she had been crying and probably worrying about me… again. "You were screaming in your sleep. Bella, you have to tell me what's wrong. If you've been seeing things again, we'll call the doctor. He helped last time."

I snorted. Dr. Redmond hadn't helped. He had given me a "schizophrenic" diagnosis and an assload of pills that turned me into an emotionless robot. "It's just a nightmare, Mom. You know that the s-word was a misdiagnosis. He admitted it himself. I wasn't seeing things; I needed glasses." Those glasses tended to make everything awful blurry at first, but I had gotten used to impaired vision.

Renee picked up my purple wire-frames. "I don't think the city is good for you, Bella. It puts you under a lot of stress, and you don't really…"

"Have any friends."  
"You said it, not me," said my social butterfly mother. "You could start over in Washington."

I took my glasses and shoved them on, and my mother's features immediately distorted. Good- I couldn't see her hopeful expression anymore. "This was Phil's idea, wasn't it?"

"Bella, no matter what you think, he's not trying to get rid of you. It's just tough for him to cope with a teenage girl who… gets bad dreams. He just thinks that it would be better for everyone if you took a vacation for a while."

"He's afraid of dealing with a so-called schizophrenic," I accused.

She hesitated, and I knew I was right. "Bella, please. I know we've had this conversation before, but I really think you should consider it." And without waiting for an answer, she stood and left my room, locking the door after her.

That was how I lived. A prisoner in my own room. Despite having convinced the family shrink that I was no danger to myself or my family, or that I was as sane as the next girl, my mother remained unconvinced. She always could see through my lies, even if they weren't entirely untrue.

I opened my window, something neither Renee or Phil knew I could do, and breathed in the fresh air. A patch of dead grass sat, barely out of my reach. _If only I could touch it,_ I thought. _If only I could touch it and watch it grow again._

Because that was my gift, and my curse. I could bring things back to life- plants, pets, even humans in theory, but at a terrible price.

My mother didn't know. She never did believe that the spirits of the dead haunted me, wanting to be restored to their old lives. That my old pet kitty Fluffernutter scratched at my window sometimes, wanting nothing more than my own blood- and I had a feeling she had already murdered others in Phoenix, Arizona. By age ten, I had given up trying to tell her, and settled for hoping she would never let a stray into the house.

When I heard the door open, I quickly closed my window, rather than chance that it would be taken away from me too. Plopping down on one of the beanbag chairs around my little prison (no sharp corners for Bella, right?), I took out a book that I had stole from the school library- because of course Renee had to monitor what I officially checked out. And there were so many rules about what I could and couldn't read that I gave up even _trying_ to be legal about it.

"Bella?"

Awake, I could analyze the voice better and came to the conclusion that this definitely wasn't my mother- but also wasn't to be ignored. "Jack?"

He walked over to me. "Maybe she's right," said the ghost.

I pulled my glasses down so I could look at him more clearly. Light hair, light eyes, a smile that broke hearts… about a century ago, that is, back in his living days. "Are you really trying to get rid of me? Finally giving up?"

Jack McCarty was one of those spirits who continually tried to get me to resurrect him, and didn't seem to understand that I couldn't do it without a body, and wouldn't usually do it even if I had one. Unlike the others, I didn't mind him, because he would actually stick around to chat after pestering me. "No, no, of course not," he assured me. "It's just… Washington."

"Yeah, world capital of boredom. What about it?"

He sat down on the foot of my bed, directly across from me. "I used to know a guy in Washington. I thought he was insane at the time, of course, but doesn't seem like that anymore. When my older brother died while studying in Tennessee and we got the letter, he said if we could somehow get the body back to our town, he could channel the power of Christ or something. Bring him back." Jack snorted. "Power of Christ. I thought he was the devil's worker, but you do the same thing, and you're decent."

"He'll be dead by now, won't he?"

Jack smiled. "Don't worry, Bells, I'm not telling you the story so you'll go grave robbing. I'm telling you the story because his name… was Darryl Swan. And Darryl had a kid right before I got sick. Named him Charles."

It hit me. "Let me guess. And his wife was Marie?"

"Sounds right. Relations, am I right?"

I jumped up. "That's my grandma and grandpa- and my dad's named Charlie! You're not just messing with me, Jack?"

He crossed his heart. "Scout's honor."

It sounded tempting. I could learn about what made me who I was. Maybe, just maybe I could finally prove that I wasn't clinically insane. And I could finally start over, in a place with unlocked doors and actual friends.

I picked up my telephone. It was one of the many interesting devices in my room, like the security camera and the baby monitor that Renee turned on every night so she could hear all the screaming going on in my sleep. The telephone was interesting in the respect that it wouldn't connect me to the outside world without a password, except for 911. Instead, it automatically called the other phones in the house, so I could call Renee when the doors were locked.

The phone rang twice, then someone picked up. "Bella?" Phil's voice said.

"Hi, Phil. May I speak to my mother?" I asked frostily. I knew the baseball player made my mother happy, but I didn't like him in the least. He was the one who convinced my mother to always enforce the locked door policy that she had previously been pretty lenient about. He installed the security camera, and he tried to keep both himself and Renee as far from me as possible.

I could almost see his twisted smile. "Bella, anything you want to say to your mother can go through me. We don't want your mother getting hurt trying to detangle your words, do we?"

"Detangle my… I'm not retarded, Phil! I'm not even insane! The doctor took back his diagnosis before you even married my mother!"

"Maybe to you," Phil said triumphantly. "Telling a patient they're insane isn't the best thing to do. He never recanted it to your mother. And I personally can't believe she's let you believe you were actually normal all of these years!"

My world crashed around me. Was it true? Was I still crazy to the rest of the world? I always thought that what had drove my classmates away from me was my geekiness- classic glasses-and-a-ponytail, science class loving, plant collecting geekiness. Did everyone avoid me because they truly thought I wasn't right in the head?

"I'm doing what your mother was too weak to do, Bella. I'm taking away your choice and sending you to Washington!" He sounded overjoyed.

"You can't do that," I said. Sure, I had wanted to go, but I wasn't going to let him force me. "I'm almost an adult!"

"But you aren't for more than half a year. And, Bella, I personally promise you one thing. If you attempt to return after your eighteenth birthday- ever- then I will check you into a mental institution myself. I never want your mother to see you again. She doesn't need you. You make her suffer, you know that Bella? She _doesn't need or want you_," he said. And he hung up on me.

I broke down, slamming into a heap at the floor. "No, that's a lie!" I screamed, knowing he wouldn't hear me- for the "comfort of the rest of the house," my room was soundproof.

But I wondered- was it really a lie? Was he putting words in my mouth to further abuse and humiliate me? Or was it true? Could it be?

Jack smiled as comfortingly as he could at me. "He probably was just trying to make you feel like dirt, Bells. Aren't stepparents supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, Jack," I sobbed. "I'm not Cinderella."

"Cheer up, sweetheart, it'll be better in Washington. Your dad loves you. And when you've vacationed in Forks, he's even let you go around town by yourself. He even… almost… seems to believe you about your gift!"

I glared at him. "Okay, since when did I let you read my diary?"

He shifted guiltily. "Sorry, but you were asleep and there wasn't anything else to do. I may not be alive, but I get bored too, believe me."

"You gonna miss me?"

"Nah," he said. "I mean, I like you and all, Bells, but if you're gone, I might as well move on too. There's nothing waiting for me here, and sometimes I forget that. But I have a feeling like there might be something for me on the other side."

"You'll get to see your brother and parents, I hope."

He thought. "I think I'll see my mom and dad, maybe. But I… I have a feeling Em isn't going to be there. Maybe he's still hanging around here. Who knows?"

"Who knows?" I repeated.


	2. Chapter 2

Phil and Renee held my arms as we walked to my plane, then handed me off to the flight attendant who said she had special orders to "keep an eye on me." _Before long, they're going to be forcing me into a straitjacket_, I thought.

For the flight, I had a few snacks, some gum, and a couple good (meaning, of course, stolen-from-the-library) books. I settled in, reading, for most of the flight, trying to look particularly bored when the flight attendant would glance at me suspiciously.

Between the books, the first flight to Seattle passed quickly. On the smaller plane, going to Port Angeles, I ended up falling asleep. I must have been considered "Charlie's problem" by then, because I had no assigned attendant. I felt, for the first time since I was ten, free.

Charlie waved to me at the gate, but didn't grasp my arm, or even my hand. "Bella!" he exclaimed. "How's my girl?"

"Fine, Dad. You?"

He smiled. "Not bad. Older."

We didn't mention how I was being forced to be here. We didn't mention Renee or Phil. We didn't mention my so-called schizophrenia. It was almost like we were just a normal family, something I had never experienced.

Charlie's house was an adorable two-story home. My bedroom was smaller than the one in Arizona, but since I didn't plan to spend more time than I had to in it, that was fine by me. What did bug me was sharing a bathroom with my father. But I knew that whatever trials I faced here, life would have to be better than it was in Phoenix.

I even had my own truck, which I would have loved simply because it was a symbol of my freedom. But this transcended my expectations- it was an old, gorgeous red pickup that looked like it could run into Fluffernutter in her hard, sparkly, undead glory and come out untouched.

That night, I climbed into bed with my door swung wide open. I could hear Charlie snoring across the hallway, and I could see his door closed. Halfway through the night, I got up and walked around the house, simply because I could.

I had never felt more wonderful- until my alarm clock rang at six in the morning and I regretted the late night. "Do I have to go to school?" I yelled.

"Yes!" he responded. "Or else the truant officer is going to come into your bedroom and tickle you until you get up!"

"Dad," I sighed. "I am not eight years old."

I dragged myself out of bed and threw on a sweater and jeans. Then I shoved my glasses onto my feet, slipped on my ballet flats, and ran downstairs.

"Oh, you're not trying to cook again, are you?" I exclaimed upon seeing him prying the remnants of a burnt egg off a skillet.

He shrugged, then put his back into it, managing to get the charred breakfast to fly into the back of the stove. "I've gotten by."

"I can't see how," I muttered before gently taking the spatula from him. It was sad, but although I hadn't been allowed even _near _the kitchen in years, I could cook better than Charlie could. "Maybe I should take kitchen duty from now on, Dad."

"You don't have to," he muttered, embarrassed.

I shook my head. "Actually, I want to. You have no clue how refreshing it would be for me."

Charlie looked up abruptly. "Did they not let you cook?"

I turned my head to the window. "Um, well, they were much better at it than I was anyway. Mom's gotten so good, she can make crepes without breaking them!"

"Stop changing the subject. What exactly went on in your house?" he demanded.

There were a million things I could tell him- a million true things. All the verbal abuse. Locking me in my room. Threatening me with commitment… just to start the list. Keeping me away from the kitchen? That was nothing. Since my mom had been remarried, Phil had taken over the Feeding of Bella. I was lucky if I got anything more than cereal or a small sandwich. Nothing that required a fork or knife. And no soup- too hot!

He looked at me expectantly, still waiting for an answer. "I don't want to talk about it right now, Dad," I said.

"Oh, right! You've got school." While that wasn't why I couldn't talk, I took the excuse gladly. Kissing Charlie goodbye, I grabbed my keys and headed to the truck.

It took barely any time to drive to the small campus of Forks High School. I probably could have walked, but it was raining (as always) and I didn't want to be soaked on an already bad day that just happened to be my first day at Forks High School.

I parked in front of the main building of my new school and headed inside. The woman at the front desk looked me up and down, taking in my messy, slept-in ponytail, the glasses that had slipped halfway down my nose, and everything else. _She probably think I look like a drowned kitten,_ I thought, sighing to myself as I walked up.

"Can I help you?" she asked, frowning in disapproval of the messy girl standing in front of her.

I pushed up my glasses, and she blurred. "No. I mean, yes. Yeah. Sure. Ummm… I'm Isabella Swan."

Her eyes widened in recognition- from my dad's gossip, or my sure-to-be-interesting file, I wasn't really sure. "Oh. Miss Swan. Of course. I have some papers for you to sign… are you eighteen?"

"Seventeen." I knew I looked older than my age, so I wasn't too bugged by the mess up.

"Oh, alright. Then your father will have to come down here at some point and sign these for you." She looked relieved, like there was something she was glad she avoided. Yeah, I could just imagine her next question if I _was_ of age- _"Are you sane enough to sign some papers for yourself?" _

"Meanwhile, I'll need you to take this one around to your teachers." She handed me a white paper with seven lines, for signatures- and a red-lined box with hard-to-decipher words scribbled inside.

The paper was abruptly pulled from my hands. "Oh, you don't have to read that!" the woman said hastily. "It's just for the teachers. Not important. In fact, I'll just put in their mailboxes so you don't have to be troubled with it!"

She was lying through her teeth. It was something, something important, something about me and the stupid mental problems everybody believed I had. "That's fine," I said, defeated. I knew curiosity would lead only to further denial.

I walked towards another building and my first class. The teacher, who already had my paper, read the red-lined box, looked at me funnily and signed. She then motioned me to the front of the classroom and handed me my paper back, unthinkingly.

"This is Isabella Swan," she said to the rest of the class. "Isabella is new here, and she has had some… trouble… at her old school. I expect you all to help her along, as it's _very important _she has no trouble adjusting. In fact," the teacher said, pondering, "I think I'd like to assign someone to help her around the school from now on. Angela? What's on your schedule?"

A bookish looking girl in the front row rattled off a list of subjects and teachers that I didn't recognize. The teacher frowned. "Hmmm. A couple classes, but most of this is out of the way. Anybody else want to take Isabella?"

But even after five different people volunteered, nobody had adequate closeness to my classes.

My teacher sighed. "I'll run someone down to the office and see if we can find somebody…"

"Or I could do it," said a jaded voice.

I looked out at a black-haired girl in the front row, her hand raised lazily. The teacher raised her eyebrows. "Lilia?" she said skeptically.

The girl shrugged. "My schedule's close."

The teacher walked over, examined Lilia's schedule and nodded. "I suppose." I got the feeling that she wasn't happy about it. And, I couldn't blame her. Black-haired, punk-rock Lilia didn't seem like the kind of person I'd trust with a schizophrenic.

The teacher turned to bookish Angela, who was sitting next to Lilia. "Angela, would you mind moving to the back of the room? I'd like to give Isabella a desk at the front of the room." Angela nodded and gathered her things, and I sat down.

The class was English, and the booklist was things I had already done back in Phoenix. I would have asked my mother to send me my old essays, but I had a feeling that Phil was in charge of Bella's school- and that he had taken time to burn all my essays.

As soon as most of the class was over, and the teacher had given us free reign to talk, my guide leaned over. "So. Your name's Isabella. Let me guess. You go by Bella."

"I suppose."

A wry grin appeared on her face. "You suppose. What, you don't like that nickname?"

I shrugged. "Not particularly. I mean, it doesn't fit me."

"So… I call you Izzy?"

I shuddered. I hated Izzy more than Bella. "No, _please _no."

"Issa? Belle? Honest," she scoffed, "if you go by Isabella I'm ditching you here and now. Nobody in their right mind could walk around after age eight calling themselves that."

"Just call me Bella- it's easiest."

Lilia studied me. "You trying to play the martyr or something? I'm gonna call you Izzy, and I really don't care how much you like or dislike it."

"So…" I said, not sure what to make of this girl, "Do you go by Lilia? Or is there something I have to call you?"

"Illy. I go by Illy," she said, shoving things into her huge black purse as the bell rang to signal second period. "Wait for me, okay? We've got the same schedule except for our last two classes."

I waited until her things were packed, and we started across campus together, trying futilely to dodge the rain. "Government in six is next," Illy said, referring to the numbered buildings that served as classrooms. She smiled at me, revealing teeth that were too straight for braces, but could use a retainer. "Bet you didn't have to deal with that stuff back in Phoenix."

I stared. "How did you know I was from Phoenix?"

Illy looked away. "Well, um… you know, people talk. If you know how to listen you can find out an awful lot."

It sounded fishy to me, but I let it go. Maybe I really was crazy, anyhow- maybe it was just me imagining things. "No, you're right. It's really different here."

"That's Forks for you," she said. "Rainy, small, pathetic, and sometimes completely freaky. I swear, it's like the perfect setting for a ghost story or something. You know, horror movies are all about the small communities in the middle of nowhere, and all the unsuspecting people getting slaughtered."

I was pretty sure that if there were any ghosts in Forks, I would know about it. "You're pretty morbid, aren't you?" I asked, trying not to laugh at my lame mental joke.

"Damn right, Izzy. Someone here needs to be. Too many preps in this stupid school." A couple of the so-called preps passed us just as Illy said that last sentence- rather loudly- and snickered meanly. Illy turned around and flipped them off. "Yeah, Jessica, Lauren. I was talking about you two bitches! Get over it!"

I stared. "Got a grudge against them or something?"

"Hey, this may not be your inner-city concrete paradise, Iz, but we've still got our mean girls. Our not-very-accepting people. Vicious rumors, total bitches, all that stuff that makes the high school years so damn pleasant."

She held a door open. "Ready to face the dreaded Government class?"

A male teacher standing next to the door laughed. "Lilia, you may not want to refer to classes as 'dreaded' when their teachers are right next to you. Especially to an impressionable new girl."

Illy laughed. "Hey, relax. We all love the class, even if the material blows."

The man examined me. "Isabella Swan, am I right?"

I said, "Bella," just as Illy said, "Izzy," and the teacher laughed. "Izzy-Bella?" Or Bella-Izzy?" he responded jokingly. I wondered if he would be so lighthearted once he believed I was mentally unstable.

I wished I didn't have to, but, wanting to get it over, I handed him the note. To my relief, he didn't read the red-lined box before signing and handing the paper back. "How about we seat you next to Lilia, in the back row?" he murmured, and I nodded, happy that one person at least wouldn't judge me.

More students walked in before class started, but one really caught my eye- a redheaded girl of about five feet who immediately crossed to me. "Are you Bella Swan?" she asked in a strange way- as if she already knew the answer. Likewise, she rushed on without waiting for me to respond. "Of course, you're the new girl. Anyway, I'm Vivian Alice Riley. Vivi to the masses, but I've never liked that name. Feel free to ask me any questions you may have that Lilia tries so hard to avoid… or lie about. Well, class is about to start. Nice meeting you." I would have sworn up and down she said all of that in one breath.

Illy sighed. "That's Vivi… sorry, _Vivian_, for you. That talkative, crazy bitch," she cursed almost fondly.

"What did she mean about you avoiding questions?" I asked the closest thing I had to a friend in Forks so far.

She looked down at her feet, "Oh, nothing," she said all too innocently, and I realized that she was actually avoiding my question about avoiding questions. "Sometimes Viv just talks out her ass like that."

Great. So I already was planning to go to this girl and ask her something- what exactly was Illy's deal?

The teacher, who's name was Mr. Lake, ran an exciting class that I quickly got into. It also prevented me from asking Illy or Vivian any questions, something I was not so happy about. Something was going on, and a crazy gut instinct told me I was heavily involved in it.

But by the time class was over, I had forgotten all about talking to Vivian or Lilia. My assigned guide dragged me to my next three classes silently, not inviting conversation. That was okay with me- years of being forced to remain in my room had not made me especially social.

When Illy led me to the school cafeteria, I was immediately impressed. It was nice- nothing like the lunchroom in Phoenix, but okay for a small school in the middle of nowhere. She gave me no time to admire the neat little rows of tables and homey setup, however, before grabbing my arm and pulling me towards a set of two tables that, while not together, were obviously connected.

At one sat a bronze-haired, incredibly handsome boy about my age, with a small girl who's features reminded me, strangely, of talkative Vivian. The other table consisted of a beautiful blonde, who was wrapped in the embrace of a boy who looked like the jock type. Another guy, blonde haired and sullen, sat uncomfortably on the edge of the bench.

Illy shoved me in front of the first table. "Hey, Edward, Alice," she greeted, paying no attention to the other three. "How are you guys? You haven't met Izzy yet, right?"

"It's Bella," I said before the two insanely gorgeous people got any ideas.

Edward (at least, I thought the bronze-haired one was Edward) looked up, and I found myself looking into pitch-black eyes. And I immediately comprehended what made these kids so beautiful. _Oh, hell,_ I thought, taking an automatic step backwards. _Crap. They're undead. They've been touched by someone like me._ "Illy," I said cautiously, "I really think we should be going now,"

The raven-haired girl looked at me, curiously. "Why, what's wrong?"

"Just trust me," I said frantically. "It's really important."

Illy shrugged. "Guess I gotta go now," she said apologetically to the vampire kids. "Izzy's getting skittish, and I think that's what I'm supposed to be trying to prevent."

The little one who reminded me of Vivian… Alice, I think her name was, waved cheerfully. "See you two later!" she almost sung in a high soprano voice that reminded me of flutes and bells. Edward didn't say a word.

But when we turned to go, I heard a musical male voice. "Bella… Swan?"

I looked back on Edward, who's eyebrows were up in surprise. "Yeah, that's me. Why?"

"I'm Edward Cullen. Of the first of the Five Families," he said, seemingly not answering my question.

I frowned. "Alright. Nice to meet you, Edward."

His face fell, like he had been expecting some other response. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Swan. I'll see you later."


End file.
